The Rose in King's Landing
by Mikeala-and-Whitney
Summary: The Queen can do as she likes (fem!Stannis)


Title: "The Rose in King's Landing"

Summary: The Queen can do as she likes.

Characters/Pairings: Sandra Baratheon/Robert Baratheon. This is the fem!Stannis Baratheon.

Warning(s): Sandra can be one sassy lady.

Disclaimer: I own none of this franchise. None. At all.

Sandra Baratheon was recognized as the Rose of King's Landing. The height of a Baratheon, nearly tall as the great Usurper himself if one would dare to think it. Her hands though, were far different than Robert's. Hers were softer, and graceful, fingers longer while Robert's were short and rough. There had been further physical features that separated the siblings, such as Sandra's feet. Whenever Robert walked, each step was loud and forceful-like a thunderclap. Whenever Sandra walked, her steps were metallic—graceful and sharp. Her presence demanded just as much attention and respect as Robert fucking Baratheon's did. Sandra Baratheon would be respected and known, she was not going to be put aside like Rhaella Targaryen had been the years before.

The similarities did show through too though, between The Boar and the Rose, as her majesty had lengthy hair, shadowy as a raven's feathers—a familiar trait of the Baratheon bloodline. Dark hair, bright eyes. Her own almost the same as her hair, her personality at times did little change that image of her. The dark rose of Robert's fortress' walls. With the exception of when she smiled; there was a change in the heavens. It wasn't cold, though it was nowhere near pleasing either. She knew when to smile, and when not to. Sandra scarcely graced any person with one both way and it was oddly out of place compared to Robert's.

For instance, today was her daughter's name day. She smiled and even spared a glimpse at her daughter. Her watch would at all times be on the girl for a split moment before going back to the tourney. She was wary of Cersei Lannister's actions, and would keep her child safe-her daughter wasn't a male, no, but Shireen was a Baratheon by right, not tainted with Lannister blood.

She sat beside Robert, and her eyes watched as Ser Jaime was on his horse. Most likely Lord Baelish had used his bets today to be placed on the Kingslayer. She glanced down once, while she still heard Robert's deafening laugh. Her eyes flashed up, to look at Ser Jaime, then at his opponent. She near rolled her eyes; however, an internal sigh did escape her. Ser Loras Tyrell and his proud smile were facing Ser Jaime. Shireen seemed absolutely delighted by it, clapping her hands, her doll under her arm.

"Look, Mama, it is Ser Loras." Shireen smiled at her, but her smile faded as her father glanced at her. Robert did not smile, but perhaps he was already too drunk to do so. Shireen looked away so abruptly.

Sandra felt something in her chest, it fluttered, tightened even, furthermore made her queasy-and Sandra Baratheon was known to have an iron stomach the same as Robert's. It was the way Shireen would look at Robert at times, that was what bothered her. There were times Shireen was so delighted with her father, when Robert was tender and would spare a smile in return then there were times when Robert could be near terrifying to any child in the kingdoms.

"The Knight of Flowers and the Knight of Kingslaying. This should be interesting." Robert Baratheon's thunderous laughter entered her ears again. It made her shut her eyes for a brief moment, and then they opened again. She did not flinch, or frown; she stared at nothing in particular.

Her thoughts had been disrupted by the laughter and she realized the tourney was about to begin. She glanced at the crowd, watched each face for a moment. Baelish had his smirk permanently fixed to his lips, also Renly rolled his eyes. She noticed Renly's eyes would always flash to Ser Loras every time the Tyrell participated in a tourney. It was no surprise to her to be honest. Robert would've thrown a fit and teased Renly to no extent. At least, one would hope he'd do just that.

She watched as Ser Jaime approached one side and Ser Loras the other.

The crowed seemed to cheer, different names shouted. Jaime. Loras. Loras. Jaime. It was the same, and it seemed to excite the crowd even more that it was two known well swordsmen. If one wanted to say that was what Loras was. Sandra mused about the situation, no one had dared to challenge Ser Jaime unless drunken or stupid-however, Ser Loras had promising features to him as well. Who would win in the tourney would be a great anticipation to the common person in the kingdoms. Sandra looked away, and sighed. She was not common.

"What do you think? You think the flowery Ser Loras will win, Sandra?" Robert hit his palm on the arm rest, overexcited, his comment of course directed to her but he did not look at her. His stare was on the duo on the field, the blonds on their horses and their helmets on. She looked at him though, at her Robert, and she realized Robert should shave. She hated that beard.

Sandra looked back to the duo, but not really. She paid little mind to the tourney. She didn't much care for them truly; Robert thrived on them for some reason. Other than they did pass time through a long day, Queen Sandra saw that nothing too exciting happened in them, unless one was going against the Mountain. Then that was a completely different story, wasn't it?

There was a cheer, and Robert raised himself up onto his two feet. He still held a goblet of wine, or whatever else he could get down his throat without choking on it.

"Let it begin!" He laughed.

The men on the field moved fast, their horses galloped and she could practically feel the confidence evaporate off of both Sers and it honestly made her shake her head bit by bit. Each moment seemed to go fast, and then Loras hit the ground and the crowd grew loud—even more than before it that were possible.

Sandra closed her eyes yet again.

When she reopened them, Ser Loras was on his feet, a stumble actually. Loras looked very upset but masked it with a small smile, and nodded his head to Robert. Jaime was still on his horse, and appeared pleased with the outcome, as always.

"The Kingslayer wins again." Robert boasted loudly. He held no lover for Jaime, yet he spoke in that way. It made Sandra remember again who Robert was. She eyed Cersei Lannister, who sat on the other side of Robert. Cersei attempted to hide her small smile of happiness. Sandra did not smile, shifted her gaze back to Ser Loras and Ser Jaime, at nothing.

Sandra Baratheon had no love for tourneys. She was not a Rose as her crowd thought. A common man would have looked at her and saw a common Queen, a traitorous sister wife to the King of Westeros. She was not sweet, or common, or weak. She was a thorn. Thorns can make anyone bleed, and they do as they like.


End file.
